Nothing to Fear But Ferrets by Linda O. Johnston

intended quick progress.
    I figured she’d dash around Darryl’s and work off some of the energy that caused her to bounce from one side of the Beamer to the other. More often than not, she landed smack on my lap, mostly while I attempted to navigate the most challenging of turns on San Fernando Valley streets. At least, with my current cadre of clients, I mostly steered clear of freeways.
    But it wasn’t only because of Lexie that I needed a Darryl fix. I craved his company. I required his counsel. I was the lawyer, but he had more common sense than a courtroom full of arguing attorneys.
    It was okay for me to say that, since I was previously a proud member of that much-maligned clan. And I intended to engage again, as soon as the ethics exam allowed.
    The ethics exam. Oh, heavens, it was coming up in just days, and I was far from comfortable that I’d do well, and—
    At the same moment I was angsting over that thought, I negotiated a left turn on a yellow light through a well-traveled intersection onto Ventura Boulevard, Lexie leapt on my lap, and my cell phone signaled a call coming in. My cell used to sing the “Ode to Joy,” but I’d grown jaded about so much joviality. It now blared a rousing rendition of Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life.”
    Fortunately, there was a gap in the parallel-parked cars along Ventura, and I slid the Beamer into it. Phone still shrilling, I gently shoved Lexie onto the passenger’s seat and said, “Stay.” Only then did I feel undistracted enough to reach for the phone. The caller ID showed a local number but I hadn’t an inkling whose it was.
    “Kendra Ballantyne,” I answered as smartly as if I’d slid back a few months and sat in my law office accepting client calls.
    “Hello, Ms. Ballantyne. My name is Jon Arlen. I’m a friend of Fran Korwald’s. She referred me to you.”
    I remembered running into Fran at Darryl’s. She’d said she was sending someone my way who needed help handling a homeowners’ association complaint. But wasn’t that someone a she, not a he?
    “Hi, Jon. What can I do for you?”
    “Well, it’s kind of a difficult situation. Would it be possible for us to meet to talk about it?”
    “A homeowners’ association dispute?” I asked.
    “No, no. That’s not me.” Jon Arlen’s chuckle sounded like static over the cell phone. “You’re thinking of a mutual friend of Fran’s and mine, Marie Seidforth. Have you heard from Marie? She’s afraid that getting an outsider involved will only make things worse, though Fran and I tell her they can’t get much worse. Not if she wants to keep living where she is and not get rid of her house full of boxers.”
    “No,” I said, “I haven’t heard from her. And the thing is, Jon, I hope Fran told both of you that though I’m an attorney by background, I’m temporarily not practicing law.”
    He chuckled again. “Fran’s so enthused that she’s talked about little but you and your background lately. She told us you helped to psych out that psycho ex-husband of hers so she got custody of her pug. You’re the famous lawyer who was in all the papers not long ago. You had your license suspended for something you didn’t do, and when you set out to prove your innocence, you also solved some murders. Right?”
    “Something like that.”
    “And your license hasn’t been restored yet? That sucks.”
    I suddenly liked this guy a lot. “Sure does,” I said. “As long as you understand I can’t give legal advice, I’ll be glad to get together with you to talk over your problem.”
    “Tomorrow?” he asked.
    “Sure.” I set it up for him to meet me at Darryl’s, since Fran had referred him there, too, and he was going to start leaving his dog during the day.
    I slipped the cover shut on my cell phone and sat grinning, till Lexie leapt over and gave me a slobbery kiss on the cheek.
    “Okay,” I told her. “Next stop, Darryl’s.”
     
AFTER LETTING LEXIE off her leash so she could zoom around